She Says It With a Kiss
by A Weeping Willow
Summary: [Post-3x15] Emma Swan has never been good at expressing emotions. But there are certain times when life throws lemons her way and in a flash of desperation and panic, she reveals her true feelings.


**She Says It With a Kiss**

Emma Swan has never been good at expressing emotions. But there are certain times when life throws lemons her way and in a flash of desperation and panic, she reveals her true feelings. Even though that does not always have to be a good thing, it is a way of coping with terrible situations. Because there is something that terrifies her more than revealing her deepest thoughts and that is not revealing them at all until it is too late. When people disappear or even dies the feeling, the _need_ to tell people just exactly how she feels consumes her. At one point she would have to open herself up to _somebody_. The problem, however, is that the one person she used to trust turned out to be her same-age mother. You cannot speak to a mother that way you speak to a friend and Emma and Mary Margaret was no exception to that rule, even though Mary Margaret liked to think they were.

In desperate times when you need a friend you often look around and think about who to trust and who to not. That may sound like a simple decision but it is not for everybody. Emma Swan for example had a deeper issue than not having the knowledge of who was trustworthy or not, she already knew. No, her issue lied in the scars of all those who had left her, voluntarily or not. Somehow everyone she trusted left her. Those were the days that she wished for a love as strong as her parents'. There was a reason she was called the Product of True Love. From the glimpses that she had gotten it seemed that her parents leaving each others' sides was near impossible. And Emma wanted that. She wanted a guarantee that if she opened her heart to someone, let someone inside her walls, that person would never leave her side. Not her role as saviour or her past as thief or even death would stand in the way. But as the pessimist she was she knew that life could give no such guarantees.

However, as reluctant as she may be she still knew something needed to be done. She had just been to the funeral that had been held for Neal. And that is when thoughts had formed in her mind that maybe, just maybe, it was time to put her cards on the table. She knew it was too late with Neal, but even so she felt like she had said everything she needed to say to him. Her biggest regret was that he would no longer be in Henry's life.

But there were so many other people who were still alive that deserves some answers; she had not been particularly generous about those.

It did not really matter how many times Emma said 'people' to herself when ultimately she knew that it was one person and one person only. That thought occurred to her when the man of the hour sat down next to her on the log, flask in hand and a breath that undeniably smelled like rum. Not that she would have expected anything else.

It was quiet around them. Everyone else had already left but Emma had stayed behind to think. It had been a beautiful ceremony, but it was easier to appreciate it all alone. She did not mind the leather-clad pirate though. She rarely did.

"I wish I could've saved him," she whispered. She didn't know if Hook had heard or not because he didn't answer. Then he offered her his flask, which she accepted without a thought.

The only sound for quite some time was the rustling of leaves as the wind invaded their space. Sometimes birdsong or squirrels jumping from tree to tree could be heard.

Thoughts like 'There is no time like today' filled Emma's head. She had a golden opportunity to tell the man sitting next to her how she truly felt. Well, to be fair, Emma was far from sure what exactly her feelings were and what they meant. But after her long inner monologue about telling people – not people, _just one person_ – how she truly felt, backing out was a cowardly decision. Emma Swan was not a coward. She was the Saviour. Even so, she felt like the saviour who could not even save herself.

"Thank you," she finally said. It was a start, nonetheless. Although it did seem she thanked him quite a lot. Perhaps she had a lot to be thankful for. _Thank you for saving my family, for coming back . . . for being you_.

"What for?" It was not an unexpected question so Emma really should have thought about how to answer it. Obviously she had not. So she just shrugged and tried to smile as if telling him it was no big deal. "I . . . have a lot to be thankful for."

"Is that so?" he asked. She nodded. "You have done a lot for my family . . . and for me. Completely selfless things that I can't imagine anyone else doing." See, things are not going too bad, Emma. Just get it out! "Look, I know I've never . . . and I'm not . . . but . . . there is something . . ." And there she blew it. How does one put words to their feelings if they do not know what they are? The answer is simple: they don't!

"Lass, you're not making any sense," said Hook looking at the blonde beside him as she nervously bit her lower lip, eyes scanning the ground. Emma didn't realize it then but whatever she was trying to say was fairly obvious to anyone.

How had it been so easy for Hook, she thought. How had he been able to confess his feelings? Well, in retrospect she realized that it had probably not been as easy as it had appeared. Because he had never said 'I love you' and he had not confessed until the Echo Caves were he had been forced to in order to save Neal. Before then Emma had not noticed because she had been so blinded by her need to get her son back and Hook himself had been awfully quiet about it.

Emma looked up at Hook, searching his eyes. He looked back with those blue orbs she inevitably could not take her eyes off. "I . . ." she began again, but could not find those damned words. She did not speak the language of emotion.

So Emma leaned in closer, her lips finding his in an instant. He responded slowly, softly. Parted lips tasting each other, tongues circling each other like snakes.

Emma Swan has never been good at expressing emotions, at least not in words. But she says it all and even more with a simple kiss.

* * *

**Authors note: **Thank you for taking the time to read this. Reviews are always appreciated! This is the first story that I've written (or more like published) for CS, I hope I did ok. I didn't want to put this a/n at the top of the story because most of the time I don't want people to sit there thinking 'Aha she's a newbie, let's judge the crap out of her story!' while reading. But obviously no one does that, I'm sure all of you readers are lovely people even if you don't like my story.


End file.
